


collision

by CapnWinghead



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multiverse, Pining, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Bucky Barnes, Self-Acceptance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28005636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapnWinghead/pseuds/CapnWinghead
Summary: Sam and Bucky respond to a call about a potential wormhole opening up in the middle of Manhattan. What they find there leads Bucky to realize that he still hasn't quite let go of his past.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 21
Kudos: 166





	collision

**Author's Note:**

> Quick little piece I wrote after imagining how Bucky would react if he encountered a Winter Soldier that was still suffering the effects of Hydra's control. 
> 
> The address is completely made up - while I've visited, I don't know any New York addresses. 
> 
> I hope you all like the story!

Sam and Bucky never knew what they were going to find on these distress calls.

The wreckage after the Snap, remnants of the largest war to ever take place on earth, the villains that reappeared and saw the chaos as an opportunity to take over – it was a constant battle. The calls had been coming in faster than the New Avengers could respond to. They were stretched pretty thin but, even so, Bucky refused to let Sam go out on his own. Sam hadn’t welcomed him there at first; assuming Bucky thought him incapable on his own. Which wasn’t exactly true.

Sam was too nice. Only seeing the best in people until they gave him a reason not to. The greatest example being his current roommate: Bucky. Sam had looked at someone who’d tried to kill him several times and still managed to find someone to care for. He’d helped Bucky get his life in order, gave him a place to stay, and even considered him a friend. Simply put: Sam was too damn trusting and it might get him killed one of these days.

Bucky wasn’t going to let that happen.

On this day, they’d gotten a call about a wormhole in Brooklyn. Rather unlikely, but they responded nonetheless. Stranger things had happened. Hope dropped in an alien mafia showdown in Utah just last week. And that had just barely topped the storybook characters brought to life by a mutant child in Missouri.

Bucky and Sam arrived outside of an abandoned, dilapidated office building. The doors had been blown out, glass littering the street. Sam tread carefully past Bucky, moving through the doorway pushing hanging wires out of the way. Bucky followed close behind, tense and alert. Before Sam started talking.

“No wormhole, huh?” He asked, tossing a grin over his shoulder. “Or there was, but someone took _forever_ to get here.”

“You have wings, don’t you? You didn’t have to bum a ride from me.”

“Like I trust you to follow the traffic laws without me to remind you,” he replied, grin widening.

Then he disappeared from sight.

“Sam?” He froze in place, listening intently. “Sam!” he hissed.

In the dim light, it was impossible to see where he’d been. Everything was engulfed in shadow. Bucky moved through the space silently, his eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness. He slowed his breathing, shoulders tense, hand posed over his holster. Everything was still.

A flash of silver – Bucky rushed it, tackling a large body and bringing it to the ground. They moved with him fluidly, rolling across the chilled floor and climbing to their feet. Bucky lashed out, meeting only air as the person moved in to attack. Nothing connected, just missing each by seconds before they grabbed hold of Bucky’s hair and hauled him closer. A metal bar smashed into his face, his vision swirling.

Blood gushed down his chin and into his mouth, the taste sending him back for a second. Remembering the biting cold, chilling him to his bones and a flash of red hair. This person – whoever they were, they’d trained the way Bucky had, the way Natasha had. He’d never win with speed; only brute force.

Charging forward, he caught them around the waist as they crashed through a nearby pillar. Came down hard on top of them, dodging a serious jab meant for his throat. Reaching out, he gripped a serious head of hair, twisting in his fist as he slammed their head into the concrete. It didn’t do much. Strong thighs wrapped around his waist and rolled them.

Over and over until he met a wall with a sharp crack. Bucky’s head slammed backwards, vision swirling once more. He had just enough time to yank hard on the hair in hand and return the favor.

He passed out to the sound of sirens.

* * *

Blood.

In his mouth, his nose, sticky between the webs of his fingers. He woke with a start, hands tightening around something soft and giving.

“Jesus Christ! I thought you said you sedated this guy!” a pained voice called out. Bucky didn’t recognize it and his hands clamp down tighter. “Sedative! Now!”

Subconsciously, Bucky knew his handlers were gone. The soldier was gone. Even so, even knowing that, he knew he wasn’t some place he recognized and he had a mission. He didn’t want to go under.

Forcing his eyes open, the bright light left him disoriented and dizzy. The surface beneath him rocked gently with a few rough jolts underneath. They were moving. He pulled, hard – yanking the man closest to him. Panicked green eyes met his, sweat on the man’s brow.

“Stop,” he commanded.

“We’re medics. We have strict orders to take you back to base.” Bucky’s hand clamped down tighter and the man grimaced, his shirt collar digging into his throat. “Please.”

“Stop the car. Now. I won’t ask again.” The man’s eyes cut to Bucky’s left sharply. Bucky followed his gaze, breath catching.

Sam was lying next to him on a gurney, unconscious with a thick gash on his forehead. They must not have been riding long if the men hadn’t had time to patch him up. And Bucky was only slowing them down.

He released the man, reaching out for Sam. Bucky could only brush his shoulder, then his fingertips, gaining little response. At least he was here and not in a body bag. Bucky may have failed to protect Sam, but at least he was still breathing. Bucky’s head fell back on the gurney, blinking sluggishly as he watched Sam for the rest of the ride.

He’d better be okay.

* * *

When they arrived, an agent had to physically pull Bucky down the hall towards the holding cells. He’d wanted to stay with Sam while they patched him up but apparently Fury had “kindly” requested he be there for the interrogation. Bucky still didn’t know who he’d fought in that basement.

“I have to check on Sam,” Bucky said in greeting.

The door closed behind him and Fury paid him little attention. “We have doctors for that. This way,” he commanded, striding over to the one-way mirror. Bucky followed begrudgingly, struggling to focus on the mission.

Fury mashed a button and the shades rose. Bucky stared through the window in confusion.

It was like déjà vu – if he was watching himself in a film. The Winter Soldier sat in a box not unlike the one Bucky had been shut in back in Germany after the Accords. Long stringy hair hiding his face, blue eyes piercing and focused. He wore ripped and torn black clothing, hands tightly gripping the arms of the chair. Staring blankly ahead, body tense and ready to strike.

If anyone ever let him out of there.

“Is this some sort of trick?” Bucky spat, looking to Fury.

“You tell me. We’ve asked Richards to do a reading of the building where we found you all. My best guess,” he looked to Bucky sternly, “that call about a wormhole was true and he came in from somewhere else.”

“Somewhere…”

“Not of this universe.”

The door opened and Sam appeared. Bucky rushed to his side, stopping a few feet away, his hands at his sides as he fought the urge to check him over. Sam looked a little worse for wear, a bandage on his head and clearly exhausted. He’d changed out of his suit into a long sleeve shirt and jeans. No matter what he wore, he still looked ridiculously good. He offered Bucky a quick glimmer of a smile before approaching Fury.

He gazed into the window, eyes widening. “This is crazy.” He looked to Bucky. “You think there’s another me running around somewhere?”

“Let’s hope not,” Bucky muttered, earning a real smile.

“What do we know?” Sam asked.

“Nothing. He’s not talking.”

Sam’s brows rose. “Did anyone without SWAT gear try talking to him? Like a real human face?” At Fury’s blank stare, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, let me try.”

“Excuse me?” Fury began as Bucky firmly said, “No way.”

“Look, someone’s gotta get something out of him.”

“Remember the last time we tried this?” Bucky asked.

“We never actually did – Hydra snuck in one of their ‘doctors’ and set you off.” He rubbed tiredly at his eyes and Bucky felt his annoyance briefly turn into concern.

His voice softened, “You’re beat. Let’s just go home and let Fury handle this.”

Sam shook his head, a soft smile on his face. “I can do this. Really.”

Bucky reached out for his arm. “Sam, you’re not going in there.”

“You think you can stop me?” At Bucky’s glare, he tried again. “Look, he’s scared, he’s alone, he doesn’t know where he is. Maybe he hasn’t broken free from Hydra yet. Maybe he just got out and hadn’t gotten help yet. Maybe he’s from a universe where he doesn’t have Wakandan techno magic to heal him. Either way, he needs my help.”

“Or a new target. For all we know, this is some trick and he was sent here to kill you.”

“He could’ve killed me in that basement. He didn’t.”

“Yeah, because I didn’t give him the time.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed, mouth a firm line. Then he shook his head, slipping through the door and out of Bucky’s hand. Cursing, Bucky ran a hand through his hair and turned to face the window. At least he’d stick around for when Sam inevitably needed his help.

The Winter Soldier didn’t react when Sam entered the room. His eyes tracked Sam’s movement without ever turning his head. Sam slipped his hands into his pockets, clearly an attempt to look relaxed. Still, Bucky could see the tension in his shoulders. He was nervous and it put Bucky even further on edge.

He should be in there; not Sam.

“So,” Sam began, trying for a smile, “you’re clearly not from around here.”

The Winter Soldier stared at him silently.

“I know we didn’t meet under the best circumstances, but I really just want to help you find your way home.” The soldier’s jaw tensed as Sam moved in closer. Outside the room, Bucky tensed in response. “So, can we work together?”

The Winter Soldier’s head cocked to the side, studying him intently.

“My name is Sam. I think you recognized this.” He held up the shield and the soldier’s eyes widened. Bucky hadn’t realized Fury brought it in earlier.

“Not yours,” the soldier rasped.

Sam offered a tight smile. “It is now. Steve retired and left it to me. Our Steve.” The soldier’s brow furrowed. “You remember your Steve, right?”

In some ways, Bucky thought it harder to see the blankness in the soldier’s expression than it had been going through it himself. He knew all too well about the dense void in his memory. It was still there, only overlayed with memories that felt clinical and curated from museums and newspapers.

“That’s okay,” Sam said after some time, his face drawn. “You’ll remember.”

He paced a few steps, “We think you came from another universe.” The soldier’s mouth twisted and Sam laughed lightly. “I know, but that kind of thing can happen. I’ve seen a lot of weird things over the years and, honestly, another Bucky is not the strangest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The soldier’s eyes gleamed, studying Sam curiously.

“We don’t want to hurt you. We just want to find out where you came from, how you got here and how to get you home. That’s all. I give you my word.”

The soldier stared at him blankly and Sam stared back for a long moment. Then, he sighed, rubbing at his chin. “I suppose it’s not going to help you trust me if I keep treating you like a monster. Let’s see if I can get them to at least get you out of the cell.”

Bucky was on him the second he left the room. “What the hell are you thinking?” Sam was taken aback, stepping in closer, eyes narrowed in confusion. This close, Bucky could only smell the scent of antiseptic and blood. It turned his stomach and only reaffirmed why this was a terrible idea. “He’s dangerous.”

“He’s no more dangerous than you were.”

“Exactly,” Bucky spat.”

“He could have killed me back there. You know that better than anyone.” Bucky gestured to his bandage in annoyance. “He thought he was being attacked.”

“And you got all of that from one sentence?”

Sam stared at him quietly. “You’re not that hard to read. If anyone knows that, it’s me.”

The words cut Bucky deep, a part him panicked at the thought of Sam knowing him at all. He licked his lips, his voice rough, “I’m not letting you go in there with the restraints off.”

“You’re not ‘letting’ me?” Sam asked, brows raised. “We need answers.”

Bucky simply stared at him. The more time passed, the more he realized Sam wouldn’t be swayed. There were times when a simple look shared between them was enough. Truth be told, Bucky got the sense he was always giving away more in his face than he intended and it was that, more than anything else, that swayed Sam to his way of thinking. No matter, this time, Sam was dead set on this ridiculous plan.

“Fine,” Bucky muttered and moved past him. He shut Sam in with Fury.

“Bucky!” Sam called out as Bucky entered the interrogation room and closed the door.

When Bucky entered, the soldier straightened up. On the defensive. An odd thing considering he hadn’t seemed tense with Sam in the room. Then again, Sam seemed to have that effect on people. The soldier watched intently as Bucky approached.

“Where did you come from?” Bucky demanded. It was met with a silence he expected. “I’m not asking for your base, I’m just asking if you know what world you came from.”

At the puzzled stare, Bucky quickly explained, “There are things out there, magic and weird science. We think you got here by accident.”

The soldier swallowed, averting his gaze. “He said he wanted to help.”

At Bucky’s stare, blue eyes cut to the door and Bucky sighed. “Sam. He does. Want to help, I mean.”

“Why?” His voice was so small. Looking at him closer, he seemed years younger than Bucky. He met Bucky’s gaze, eyes soft and confused.

Bucky ignored the slight twinge in his chest. “He’s… Sam.” His tone gentled as he spoke. “That’s what he does.” He moved in closer, holding the soldier’s gaze. “He fixes people.”

“You were like me.” It wasn’t a question.

Bucky nodded, standing a few feet from the glass cell. “He thinks you can be saved.”

“Who is he? To you?”

Bucky struggled to think of a word. ‘Everything’ came to mind, but it sounded too heavy. Certainly not something to be said here – or out loud. “A friend. We can still have those,” he said with a glimmer of a smile.

The soldier watched curiously, leaning back in the chair. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.” At Bucky’s face, he explained, “I thought he was there to take me back.” He licked his lips, brow furrowed as he continued, “Something happened in my city and I ended up in yours. I was trying to find something familiar. I used to live there. Or, at least, I think I did?”

Bucky thought about the basement. He’d been so focused on Sam, so frustrated that he’d marched straight ahead instead of letting Bucky clear it first. He hadn’t even thought to focus on the building. He tried to recall the address, to remember what they’d seen on their communicators.

“1809 Woodsman,” he said with a helpless smile. “Rebecca used to climb on the planters outside. I remember, she fell once and—”

“Busted her front two teeth,” the soldier finished, looking to him in question. “I used to live there?”

Bucky nodded. “You did.” He sat down on the floor. “A long, long time ago.” The soldier chewed on his lip, hands closing into fists. “You just got out, didn’t you?” The soldier nodded. “You have a long way to go.”

It was all too easy to remember that time, just after DC, when he’d been roaming around chasing any information he could find on himself, on Steve, on the life he used to have. Initially, he’d been surprised to find there was so much out there about himself and his family. He’d been a nobody, just some kid from Brooklyn that got drafted into the 107th regiment. If it weren’t for Steve, no one would have cared to know anything about him.

“It’s not much, but there’s stuff in boxes, in museums, on military bases. There’s people that can help you. You might not ever get it all back, but you get some of it. It’s not lost forever.’ _You won’t be lost forever,_ he thought. The soldier’s eyes gleamed, his breathing labored. “All that stuff’s good but, it’s just stuff. Who you are now’s important, too. There’s people that want to help you. You gotta let ‘em.”

The soldier’s jaw tensed, a tear rolling down his cheek. “Sam?”

Warming, Bucky nodded. “He’s good for you. Everything that you are…” he swallowed, his words soft, “he makes you believe you can be more than that.”

He’d never say, but that, more than anything else, made all the difference in the world.

It was near overwhelming, sitting there in front of himself and realizing that fact – what it meant. His breath caught, his chest tight as the words sank in. Swallowing thickly, he started to say more about the future and what it might look like when the door opened.

A thin twig of a man entered, tapping away on a tablet. “Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes from earth 1223, by our nomenclature of course.” The man tapped away, fingers moving faster than Bucky could follow. “We should have you home by breakfast.”

He left without another word, not even looking up from his tablet. Bucky stood, looking to the shoulder who was just as confused as he was.

“Guess I’m going home.”

“Guess so.” Bucky dusted his hands off on his pants.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” He shrugged, still rather shaken.

He bid the soldier farewell and headed for the door. He’d just opened it when the soldier called out, “Things might be different for me. On my earth.”

Bucky turned to him. “Yeah.”

“You think I have a Sam?”

The question never crossed Bucky’s mind. As soon as it did, he actually pitied the man in front of him. He couldn’t imagine his life without Sam.

“I hope so.”

* * *

Sam was quiet on the ride home.

The bike was still at the scene, so they took a SHIELD transport home. Sam paid him little attention, focused on the world moving past the windows. It was a strange experience because, since they’d come to trust each other, Sam pretty much talked his ear off at every opportunity.

When Bucky first moved in, Sam chatted nervously.

Bucky hardly ever spoke and he could tell it made Sam uncomfortable. At first, he’d worried it was out of fear but Bucky had been so lost in his head that he didn’t have it in him to try to muster up some charm or force words out. He did his best to seem non-threatening and Sam’s nervous chatter actually made that easier. The more relaxed he felt, the more comfortable they became in the quiet. Over time, he realized Sam had filled the silence with sound because it actually put Bucky at ease.

That’s just the way Sam was – he tried to help damn near everyone he met. The overworked single mom next door, the barista at their local coffee shop, even the mailman. He made friends easily and it was near painful to watch because Bucky had been like that once. Before the war, before Hydra, he hadn’t been socially inept. Now, he was comfortable around Sam and sometimes Sharon, but he kept to himself in most situations.

He certainly wasn’t the type to look at someone dangerous and think about how to help them. Even if that someone was a younger version of himself.

They arrived home and Sam slipped inside without turning the lights on. He headed for the hall and Bucky called out, “Sam?”

“I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day.”

“We’re not going to talk about this?”

“You want to talk?” Sam asked, tired eyes widening in surprise.

“Well, yeah, I think we should.”

Sam blinked at him for a moment. Finally, he nodded, shuffling over to the couch. Bucky followed suit, running a hand through his hair to hide the fact that his hands were shaking.

Sam studied him quietly, waiting for him to speak. Bucky forced the words out. “I know you’re not happy with me.”

“Not exactly,” Sam said, the corner of his mouth turning up.

“You were about to do something stupid.”

“And I don’t have enough fingers and toes to count all of the stupid shit you’ve pulled since we’ve known each other.” Bucky started to reply when Sam held up a hand. “I’m more mad at myself than you.”

“What?”

Sam lowered his head. “I didn’t realize you still felt that way about yourself.”

“What?”

Sam took his time meeting his gaze. “You still see yourself as a threat.” He chewed on his lip. “A long time ago, I would’ve been asking questions over an intercom. But that was then and I didn’t know you.” He shook his head, continuing on, “We come face to face with a version of yourself that made the conscious choice to keep me alive. A man that sat in that chair and never once tried to break free. All of that and you felt the need to keep me out of the room with him. Like it was dangerous just talking to him.”

Bucky shook his head. “Sam, you always try to see the best in people. Sometimes there’s nothing there to see.”

“I don’t believe that. Especially when it comes to you.” His eyes were fierce and bright, his voice growing stronger. “You want to sit here and tell me I should be afraid of you.”

In the face of such certainty, Bucky’s words came out in a rush. “What do you want me to say, Sam? I can’t protect you; not from myself, and I did a damn good job of hurting you.”

Sam moved in closer, watching as Bucky’s eyes warmed and he felt a tear roll down his cheek. “You’re not that guy anymore.” He reached out, smoothing his thumb over Bucky’s cheek. “There’s no one else I’d want by my side out there. You keep me safe.”

Bucky shook his head, his voice thick, “Not as well as I should.”

He covered Sam’s hand keeping it there. Sam’s eyes softened. “No one thought I could do this job. Except Steve and you,” he said, drawing Bucky’s gaze. “I don’t put much stock into what other people say, you know that. But when it’s you… it meant a lot that you believed in me.”

“Sam," he began, his heart beating fast in his chest.

Back in that interrogation room, he’d come to realize what he’d been avoiding for the past few months. His unwavering faith, his gratitude, his discontent when Sam was gone. The way Sam filled every room with light and warmth. The way he made it seem so easy to smile, to crack jokes and to laugh. The way he became Bucky’s family. And the spike of panic that came with Bucky’s understanding that there was one word for all of it.

“I love you, Sam,” he murmured, holding Sam’s gaze. Sam’s eyes widened, his thumb sliding over Bucky’s cheek almost by habit. It made his chest tighten with affection. He says it again, his words firmer. “I love you.”

The next few seconds seemed impossibly long. Bucky’s heart beat painfully fast, stomach tight in anticipation.

Then Sam smiled, soft and fond, his thumb smoothing over Bucky’s cheek once more. “I love you, too,” he whispered.

His fingers slid into Bucky’s hair, his eyes softly closing as he leaned in. Lashes fluttering gently over Bucky’s skin as their lips met in a kiss. Sighing, Bucky deepened it, the stress of the day melting away. Warmth filled his chest, his nervous hands finding Sam’s face and keeping him there. Sam smiled into the kiss.

Pulling away, his eyes were bright and honest as they held Bucky’s. “You’re good for me, too.”

Breath catching, Bucky nodded, stealing another kiss.

He hoped earth 1223 had a Sam Wilson. Bucky couldn’t imagine life without him. 


End file.
